


Changing Seasons

by kat_writes_stuff



Series: The Malone Alternatives [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Making Out, Mentions of other nations - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Romance, Swearing, and japan has no idea what he's doing, but not really, singapore is a sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 20:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_writes_stuff/pseuds/kat_writes_stuff
Summary: "Seasons change and our love went coldFeed the flame 'cause we can't let goRun away, but we're running in circlesRun away, run away"If Singapore knew that all she needed to do was get the bastard drunk in order to make him express his feelings she would have gotten him drunk a long, long time ago. A pity that she had to hate him for 70 years first before she found out.





	Changing Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My name is Cat, and this is the very first fanfic I'm posting so please go easy on me (and my OC). The lyrics used in the summary is Circles by Post Malone and it would be very cool of you if you listened to that song while reading this fic. Enjoy!

It's become absolutely unbearable. It was..._ difficult_ to work, to say the least. 

Worse of all, there's no fucking way to avoid him. He's a prominent figure during meetings. His very presence highlighted the importance of gatherings, and his reputation amongst colleagues is notable, if not poignant. A polite, reserved, Japanese man bearing the name Kiku Honda, and carrying the weight and sins of his whole country on his shoulders.

To the world, he is Japan. 

To Singapore, he is the bane of her existence. 

... Or _was_, the bane of her existence. 

Like the constant, cyclic, changing of seasons, her feelings towards him changed too.

There was still animosity between them, no doubt, but there was a sense of mutual respect between them too. Kiku Honda has learned from his past and turned over a new leaf. But like the changing of seasons, it was hard to tell if this new version of him was permanent. Summer never lasts longer, and neither does Spring. It seemed too good to be true that Winter and Autumn had past to let the warmer days take over.

But somewhere in her deep, deep conscience, Singapore hoped it was <strike>(although she would never say that out loud)</strike>.

Along with these changes came feelings, feelings that she had repressed many many years ago and have now sprung open, like a geyser bursting from the ground. These accursed changes brought about a wave of mixed emotions that overwhelmed her. And with these emotions, her demeanour moulded and changed as well. She was listening to him during meetings, even though it was her common practice to ignore him completely. She felt less inclined to punch him if he talked to her and, God forbid, she actually _laughed_ when he told America a joke just the other day. 

It's not just the way he acts that keeps her up at night now. 

His eyes are black, once they were soulless, but now they're full of wisdom, intelligence, and the occasional mirth. His dark bangs fall asymmetrically over the eyes she used to hate. And his laugh, God the way he laughs, quieter than a chuckle, but it bubbles in his chest and she can see him restraining himself from laughing aloud.<strike> And a part of her, horrified as she was, _wanted_ to see him laugh aloud. </strike>

Desire. She concludes, after weeks and months of his face popping up in her dreams like a rose on a snow bank. Frankly, it would be impossible not to desire him by now. Their similar hobbies, aspirations, life style... Two kindred spirits who have yet to find each other. 

But being close to him meant falling for the same trick she fell for last time. The same person. The same _stupid_ reasons. It meant falling into the same twisted nightmare-cum-dream where she would break down her own walls, let him touch her without consequence, want more of him and not care if it meant denouncing promises that would shatter her status as a woman of her word. It was dangerous to have that much power over someone like her, and yet... 

Kiku Honda need not say much. All it would take are three words, three words and mean it. Caress her softly over the scars he gave and apologise. Apologise, and Singapore would be more than happy to lose herself in those twinkling black eyes. She would enjoy it. 

The seasons change and so do people. And so did Singapore's feelings for Japan. 

She has never been so terrified of herself in her entire life. 

* * *

Singapore can't remember how she got here. Bottle in hand, tousled hair, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, basically her usual get-up when she visited a bar. But the only difference this time was the lack of company she enjoyed, and instead, company that she would have never expected in the first place.

Bottle in hand, tousled hair, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Japan waved a shaky finger at Singapore's face, swaying in the bar stool he sat on. 

_ "What's your problem with me, anyways?"_ The Japanese man slurred in his native language. The bottle wasn't even halfway finished but the effects of the drink had already taken effect on the light-weight.

Poor bastard, Singapore thought as she downed her fifth bottle with ease. 

_ "You're always so mean to me... Last week you put salt in my coffee instead of sugar. SALT!!"_ He exclaimed indignantly, waving his arms around as alcohol sloshed out of the bottle and splattered onto the wooden floor.

_ "Who does that to someone? I don't understand what I - Urp! - did wrong..."_

"Sober up a little and maybe you'll find out." Singapore replied curtly, ignoring the pang in her gut. Lucky for them, they were the only ones occupying the shoddy bar, them and the surly looking bartender who looked like he was ready to hit Japan over the head with the mug he was holding for wasting all that perfectly good alcohol. 

_ "Why won't - Urp! - you just talk to me?"_ Japan pleaded, his entire demeanour changing to one of desperation and whininess.

_ "I HATE it when you do things like that to me... I just want us to be friends, for God's sake..."_ He stops and doubles over, looking like he's about to puke everywhere. Singapore grimaced and made to move one seat over, but sighed in frustration when the man only lets out a loud belch. Eventually, pity won over her steadfast willpower.

"Come on," she sighed in defeat as the man groans, his forehead planted firmly on the table. "I'll take you home." 

Japan looked up and, to the best of his abilities, fixed a scrutinising stare onto the woman adjacent to him. When he didn't find any hints of malice or dishonesty in her eyes <strike>(were they always that pretty?),</strike> his face softened and he placed a hand under his bangs, onto his throbbing temple. 

"Okay." He relented with a whine. 

Singapore nodded and threw her head back to finish her bottle, slamming it down on the table when she had finished. She passed a wad of cash to the bartender and helped Japan down from his bar stool. She made a mental note to ask Japan to pay her back tomorrow as she laid her hands on the drunk man. She allowed him to throw an arm over her shoulder and place most of his weight onto her for support, which was easily the most amount of physical contact they've ever had in the past seventy years.

Seventy years.

Over seventy years of holding a grudge. 

Christ, that was way too long. 

The two managed to stumble out of the dingy bar and onto the chilly streets of New York City. Icy wind swept past the inebriated pair, slicing through their thin work attire like a pair of scissors. Singapore shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts and manoeuvred Japan towards the direction of the hotel that the nations were assigned to. The streets were emptier than they were in the morning, but it could be because it was almost one in the morning and no one with half a brain wanted to be out on the streets at such a god-forsaken time.

Soon, Singapore spotted the hotel. It was hard to miss.

It was a soaring tower, its name emblazoned in bright white lettering, soaked in a warm, gold lighting that could be seen from kilometres away. The entire architecture screamed _'for rich people only'._ Steering him away from a mean looking homeless person, the pair stumbled onto the asphalt road and crossed the street. They jaywalked, because Singapore couldn't care less, and because if Japan had to wait any longer he would have surely thrown up all over Singapore's clothes. The Japanese nation mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse and flinched at the sight of the building, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand. Singapore tried very hard to push down the warm feeling rising in her chest.

"You are such a fucking lightweight, Honda." Singapore cursed when the nation faced trouble lifting his feet up onto the sidewalk. "Thought Japanese people would be medium-weights at the very least, with all that sake y'all drink." Japan, wisely, didn't have anything to say to that.

Singapore navigated them through the treacherous revolving doors, shooting the clerks at the front desks exasperated looks before jerking her head towards the mumbling Japanese on her shoulder as if to say 'can you _believe_ this dude?'. Most of them shot her sympathetic glances as they watched her haul the taller man (although not by much) into the elevator. 

One excruciatingly long elevator ride later, the doors opened with a 'ding' and Singapore yanked Japan out of the lift with her. He mumbled something incoherent at the sudden action, but his eyes were still blank and spaced-out which probably meant he was still under the effects of the alcohol. Then there was the process of lugging the drunk down the hallway. Singapore prayed that the sound of Japan's feet dragging across the floor wouldn't be mistaken for someone dragging a dead body as she hefted the boneless man towards his room. 

They stopped outside his door, number 894, and Singapore laid him on the floor with surprising gentleness. Japan let out what could have been a relieved hum at the feeling of solidness behind his heavy head, paying little attention to the hands scouring the insides of his coat. A few moments later, Singapore fished out his card key and swiped it down the card reader. She lifted the Japanese man off the ground, bridal style, his head lolling off her arm, and pushed the door into his room. 

It was a very tidy room, not surprising considering its resident. It seemed like there wasn't a single crease on the sheets, nor a single speck of dust in the room. That kind of precise, mechanical cleaning was not something ordinary humans were capable of. Singapore briefly wondered if Japan would be popular should he take the occupation of a house-maid if the whole 'anthropomorphic personificaton of a country' didn't work out for him.

The thought of the stoic Japanese man in a maid's outfit with a head cloth to match was so funny to her that she almost dropped the poor bugger. She laid him down on his impeccable bed and placed his card key on the table next to him. She stared at him for a few moments. 

...Shit. 

Should she leave? Should she stay? 

Goddammit, how could he look so good even when he was shit-faced? 

This isn't fair, Singapore huffed to herself as she gazed down on the passed-out nation. At that moment he wasn't the epitome of a well-groomed person, as he normally was. Japan's shoes had marks from where he scuffed them after dragging them around the entire time. His hair was still tousled, his tie had seen better days, his white button-up was crumpled and hiked up his stomach, exposing his pale skin. He looked like a picture that a dictionary would put next to the words _'absolutely trashed'_. Singapore gulped. 

Jesus Christ on a bike.

Singapore looked over her shoulder. When she failed to see France creeping up on her like a creep, she slowly pushed Japan's bangs back from his forehead. He looked like a baby with that baby-face instead of a two-thousand year old immortal being. Ah, the duality of men.

Suddenly, Japan moved himself to slowly sit up, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eyes. Singapore immediately withdrew her hand as though she had touched poison and looked literally everywhere else except where Japan was.

"Are you going now?" He asked quietly, dropping his hand back into his lap. 

"Yeah." It came out as a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"Yeah." She dared to look at him. His obsidian eyes seemed to bore into hers.

He contemplated her answer for a moment. But his following words knocked the wind out of her again.

"Do you want to stay?" He asked. It wasn't slurred speech. It was very much not the alcohol talking.

Fuuuuccckkkk meeeeeeee. 

Singapore shook her head with difficulty. "I shouldn't. You should go to sleep, Kiku." Great _fucking_ job, Alex

An awkward pause pierced the silence. 

"I'll see you in the morning." Singapore choked out. She turned, regret and guilt stirring in her gut, and made her way towards the door.

And she would have left, had it not have been for the hand that suddenly grabbed her arm. "I know you want to stay, Alex-san." 

Shit. Cheebye. 

"You know," Japan chuckled softly. "You haven't used my human name in a long time." 

"I could say the same for you." Singapore replied stiffly. Conflicting feeling of wanting to leave and wanting to stay churned viciously in her stomach and a feeling of bile rose in her throat. If only he would just. let. her. go. 

"I guess..." His grip loosened slightly, enough for her to yank her arm out of his hands. But she doesn't. 

"I guess times are changing." He admitted. And when Singapore turned to meet his gaze in the dark, there's a flushed look on his face that's not caused by alcohol and a message in his eyes that she knows all too well. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" She dared to ask. The words lingered over their heads like a question mark. A question that could change everything Singapore knew with just one answer. For the first time, in a long, long, time, Japan gives her a smile. Singapore's heart leapt to her throat. He pulls her down and she lets him. He whispers something into her ear. 

It goes downhill from there. Singapore doesn't waste time. Once he pulled away from her, she grabbed the back of his head and crashed their lips together. They both tasted like whiskey and beer, and every other alcohol they drank that night, but god_damn_, that wasn't going to stop either of them from getting what they want. Seventy years meant less than shit to them at that moment. Japan groaned softly and met her lips with a passionate, open-mouthed fervour. Singapore sheds her jacket in record time without even breaking the kiss, and tossed it to the side. She could worry about that later.

Japan coordinated them until he was lying right under Singapore, chest to chest, their legs tangled together. She kissed him firmly, running a hand through his hair, tilting his head to give her better access. Japan just rolled along with whatever she's doing because she was so fucking _warm_ against him and_ holy shit _they were actually _kissing_. Her breath hitched momentarily as his hand ran up and down the length of her back, quietly encouraging her to continue. 

"Alex..." He actually sighed as they broke the kiss for air. The liquid courage thrumming through her veins propelled her to target his neck, sucking softly against his pale skin, relishing the way he shivered and panted under her. Japan pushed her off gently to remove his own suit, balling it up to toss to the side, just as she did. And under the cover of night, they continued their forgotten dance.

* * *

As the clock ticked closer towards 4 in the morning, the sudden flash of light from a phone pierced the darkness, momentarily blinding Japan. Next to him, Singapore noticed his discomfort and lowered the light settings on her phone. After a few minutes of answering overseas messages, she turned it off and placed it face down on the bedside table. Japan was suddenly aware of how much pain his head was in, the light from the phone didn't help either, instead amplifying the symphony of percussion instruments pounding in his mind. Singapore lay next to him, hands clasped over the sheets on top of her chest, her breathing slow and calm. 

"Thank you." She suddenly spoke. Japan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"For not trying to have sex with me." The blunt delivery made Japan blush.

"I wouldn't even have thought of such a thing." He murmured back, massaging his temple. Thank God it was still dark, it must be a crime to blush this many times in the span of a few hours.

She remained quiet and Japan assumed that she fell asleep. He sighed inwardly, continuing to massage his temple in hopes of quelling the incessant pounding in his head. _Where did his jacket go?_ He peered over the edge of the bed and squinted, but all he saw was a bunch of shapes in the murky darkness. He fell back on his pillow and sighed, outwardly this time. Something brushed against his hand and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to look questioningly at Singapore and realised that she was sleeping facing him. He looked down and saw a pinky barely brushing against his own. What was she... oh.

_Oh_. 

This was... unexpected.

He figured this was a one time fling. Something that they would do once, never talk about again, and if he so much as looked into Singapore's general direction he would have a knife at his throat in a heartbeat. He thought that once they were done with their...tryst - no, definitely _not_ a tryst - rendezvous, she would leave and never turn back. But she was still here. 

So it can't be all that bad, right?

Without much thought, he turned to face Singapore, sleeping on his side, and tenderly placed his left hand on top of hers. When she didn't react, he let the weight of his hand rest on hers completely. The smallest of smiles quirked her lips upwards.

Japan didn't bother to suppress the feeling of joy that welled up in his chest.

Sleep came sooner than he expected, and within minutes he was out like a light. 

* * *

Japan adjusted his tie and frantically tried to flatten his already flat mop of hair. He walked out of the elevator, adjusting his cufflinks as he checked the time. When he was assured that he wasn't late, he went back to tidying himself up as he walked towards the direction of the exit. All around him, nations were milling about, chatting loudly amongst themselves as they discussed all the places they were planning to go for lunch. Germany was going to a Brauhaus down Madison Avenue, as he had told the Japanese man earlier while they were discussing plans on how to promote more eco-efficient lifestyles. And Italy, as always, insisted on joining him. Japan gave his two friends a quick nod as he passed by them on his way to the exit. Germany returned his nod with another nod and Italy waved cheerfully from where he had draped himself over Germany for better access to talk his ear off. 

Japan wanted nothing more than to join his friends for lunch, but a rather cryptic message sent to him by Singapore had other plans for him. When he had woken up this morning with a thousand tap-dancing elephants in his brain, soreness behind his eyes, and a strange feeling of disappointment at the lack of a body next to him, he was greeted by a a single notification from a nameless contact in his phone.

"Lunchtime. Behind the building." He only knew one contact in his phone that was nameless.

"Calm down, Kiku." He told himself, straightening out the imaginary creases on his impeccable suit. He pushed open the exit doors, relishing the way his bones immediately soaked up the warmth of the sunlight.

"All she wants to do is talk." he tried to convince himself. He made an abrupt left turn into the shade of the looming United Nations building and made his way to the back of the building. Known only to the more observant countries, a small dirt path greeted Japan, leading him to the intended meeting site. Netherlands had told him about this place a long time ago, it was supposed to lead one right into a small garden that was tended by secret gardeners and supposedly held an impressive array of flowers. He never knew it actually existed,

Dodging a bumblebee that whizzed by him, Japan quickened his pace slightly, knowing how pissed Singapore would be at his tardiness, and almost immediately stumbled upon the secret garden. True to Netherlands' words, the garden was very impressive. Flowers of every hue and shape crowded the small space, swaying slightly at the lightest breezes of wind. A few plump bumblebees buzzed lazily in the air, contrasted by the swift fluttering of multicoloured butterflies as both bee and butterfly circled the garden, humble guardians protecting their treasure. A towering willow tree stood in the corner, tall and strong, and underneath the expanse of leaves, a single bench sat under the tree.

Japan sees a suit, as crisp and as smooth as his. He sees a pair of matching pants, his eyes travel up to meet the bottle of Heineken gripped tightly in anticipation in a calloused hand. His breath involuntarily hitches and he stops in his tracks. It's funny how different people look after you've made out furiously with them. Lately he's had some troubling dreams, and the only thing that connected them strangely enough, was one person. One person, one face, night after night Japan just couldn't stop thinking about her. But now he can see, even beyond the fabric of dreams, Singapore was as beautiful as he imagined.

There was a time where he _hated_ her, hated the way she looked at him like he was just an insignificant speck of dirt, hated the way she spoke to him like she was better than him. It was strange, she used to just be an angry rival that he detested. Japan didn't think he would see the light of spring when he was shrouded in her frigid winter demeanour.

A pair of green eyes flickered upwards, as though she had heard his thoughts. Japan's throat tightened. Her expression was inscrutable, but if Japan had to choose one word to describe the way her eyes looked, he would choose _hopeful_. Their eyes met. A moment passed and she jerked her head to motion to the empty space next to her. His feet moved on their own accord and within seconds he was seated next to her. Japan was acutely aware of the heat pouring off of her body, and more aware of how close they were. He could smell her, the faint flowery smell of women's shampoo, something acrid that could have been a chemical, and alcohol, obviously. It was an unusual combination, but not unpleasant. He quite enjoyed it actually.

"Where do we go from here?" Singapore was the first to speak. She took a swig of her Heineken, swirling the contents in the bottle. Japan wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Must you drink so much, Singapore-san?" He ignored her question entirely and glared pointedly at the offending bottle. Singapore snorted.

"Says the dude that got drunk out of his fucking mind last night, never seen someone as trashed as you were. Not even Arthur gets drunk like that."

"I highly disagree."

Singapore shrugged. "Don't ask me, America's on drunk England duty, not me."

She takes another swig. "And I drink to forget, Kiku Honda. Something you should know very well," A dark look crosses her eyes.

"You're the one who gave me the nightmares, after all." Her voice was laced with venom and it stung Japan's heart.

It was the truth, and the truth did hurt. Looking back, he was glad that he had seen the error of his ways and had changed. The atrocities he perpetuated, the crimes he committed, the people he hurt...

Too many. Too many to count.

"You really fucked up, Honda." Singapore's words snapped him out of his reverie. "Seventy years is a long time, don't you think? Seventy years full of nothing but nightmares and fear _every time_ I close my eyes." She let out a harsh bark of laughter.

"And-And get this! After more than seventy years of holding this stupid, fucking grudge like a fucking childish shit, I end up making out with my most hated enemy because I couldn't keep my dreams in check for a few months. Isn't that _hilarious_?" Singapore placed her free hand on her forehead, shaking her head as she chuckled under her breath.

"Life is just - so - fucking - _funny_." She hissed through gritted teeth. Japan wasn't stupid, he saw the way her voice cracked at the end. He could practically hear her grinding her teeth into dust. Guilt and regret stirred in his chest and he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Again, she didn't move away.

"You were such an asshole to me. To so many people. Sometimes I wonder if you ever felt sorry for what you did to me." Singapore murmured bitterly.

"Of course I do!" Japan exclaimed quickly. "Singapore-san, I will always regret what I did. The war changed me into a monster, and I would never want to go back to being that person again. I broke your heart," He remembered the way she looked at him when they had met on the battlefield. It was a face he spent his post-war years trying to forget, amongst many others.

"And that was wrong of me. Immoral, even. But I have changed since then, you have my word."

"Hard to trust the word of someone who stabbed me. Twice."

Japan winced. Oh yeah, he did that too didn't he? It was a wonder she hadn't killed him yet. "I'm sorry, Singapore-san. I know I'm decades late but I hope that you can find room in your heart to forgive me."

"Preettttyyy sure I already did that last night, bud." She shook her head again. Japan's cheeks grew hot at the reply and his ears turned an embarrassing shade of red.

"But if it makes you feel better or whatever... I _guess_ I'll put it into words for you," She cleared her throat.

'I... I forgive you, Honda - sorry - Kiku." She managed to say. Japan smiled warmly. There was no need for words.

"We're both such messes, Kiku." She admitted, laughing softly. She scrubbed her face with her free hand and took another swig. "We need to get professional help."

Japan, who was silently struggling to see where this conversation was heading and ending, nodded nevertheless.

"No arguments here." He said gravelly, waving another bee away.

Singapore exhaled loudly through her nostrils but didn't reply. She downed the bottle again and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Can I do something really quick?" She suddenly asked. Japan nodded, not quite sure what he was signing up for.

Singapore placed the Heineken on the ground and turned to face Japan. In the blink of an eye her lips were on his, soft and gentle, unlike the violent one they shared just this morning. A rush of emotions bubbled in Japan's chest and he swooned. Either he was still very drunk or just very much in love with her, either way Japan didn't shy away from Singapore. The hand he forgot was still on her shoulder moved up to cup her face gently, feeling her warm skin and he couldn't help but think about what an absolutely insane experience this was. He felt a hand glide across his side to lay a tender hand on his waist as Singapore's other hand was laid very, very, gently on top of his. 

The whole experience was so slow but so fast at the same time. Suddenly they separated and Singapore let her head flop onto Japan's shoulder.

"Ughhhhhh, I can't believe I just did that, it was so cheesy... I fucking hate you." She groaned, lifting her head slightly only to plop it back down on his shoulder. 

Japan laughed, half-relieved and half-amused. "I thought you had forgiven me? Are you so quick to go back on your promises?"

"Hey!" Her eyes glared daggers at the Japanese man as she waved an accusatory finger in his face. "I never promised anything, alright? Don't take words out of my mouth." She let her hand drop only to scratch the back of her neck awkwardly.

"You _are_ forgiven, I guess, but... I'd rather... not... immediately start a serious relationship with the guy I spent the last couple decades wanting to kill."

"You're ability to hold yourself back is commendable." Japan smiled. He didn't know why he was so sad, she did have a point.

Singapore chuckled softly, rolling her eyes. "No one told me you're a jokester, Kiku. But if you _really_ want to get things moving... I wouldn't mind some lunch right about now."

"We have about an hour left. I'll treat you, as thanks for putting up with me last night. Any recommendations?" Japan asked. He could live with this, the waiting game. If this was the worst that she was going to give him then he's been blessed with a lot more than what he was expecting. 

Singapore grinned, canines and all, and picked up her glass bottle, bringing it to her lips.

And in the light of spring sunshine, the last of winter melted away between them.

"_You_ pick." 

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Cheebye - Cunt (a very popular Hokkien swear word in Singapore) 
> 
> I have this headcanon that Singapore and Japan met before the second war, except Japan was pretending to be a human photographer and pretending to be in love with Singapore to get information on all the strategic points in Singapore for when he decided to invade. There were actually some Japanese spies who posed as fishermen to do that. Singapore was super pissed to find out that he was lying to her all that time, but she was more sad than anything else. Getting stabbed didn't help either. ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯
> 
> But in full honesty if these two ever had to apologise to each other, there would be A LOT more fighting and swearing. Darn it. Kudos, comments, and criticism appreciated. Heineken does not belong to me and neither do the characters, except Singapore. Thank you for stopping by, hope to see you soon <3


End file.
